Every Truth A Lie
by Salkiethia
Summary: You can stop looking for him. He's not coming home. The Mokuba-centric fic I promised. Seto's been kidnapped and Mokuba's going off to look for him.
1. Disappearing Act

**Warnings:** Mokuba thinking for himself..._without_ Seto around.  
**Details:** Seto's been kidnapped. Yami is still part of Yuugi. I don't particulary care for Anzu, but I recognize her role as an important one (some of the time) so she is in this fic. Jou is oblivious.

* * *

"Nii-sama, I'm home!" he sang out, pushing the front door closed behind him.

There was no answering call from the empty mansion.

Frowning, the black-haired teenager dropped his backpack down on the kitchen floor and ran up the stairs, wondering if Seto was in his office right now.

He opened the sound-proofed room, but it was empty.

"Nii-sama? _Nii-sama!"_

Still no answer.

More annoyed than worried, Mokuba started searching the house, wondering if perhaps his older brother had forgotten to tell him something that morning. _Like, 'hey, Mokie, I'm going to be late coming home, don't worry'._

The top floor was empty. All the rooms were impeccably neat – the result of having a team of rabid housekeepers. Seto's door was half-closed, but Mokuba shoved it open, expecting something to be in his older brother's room to give a clue to his whereabouts.

Nothing.

He frowned, staring at the made-up bed and the laptop sitting partly open on his brother's desk. The room itself was Spartan but for the luxurious desk of mahogany.

_Seto never leaves his laptop at home._

Everyone knew that, not just Mokuba. Seto seemed to have an attachment to his metal briefcase that was only trumped by his addiction to the internet, which only his laptop could provide anywhere. Something about radio transmitters and other scientific nonsense like that.

But that wasn't the point. Seto wasn't home, there wasn't a note of any sort and he'd left his laptop.

Mokuba growled low in his throat. Something was wrong.

* * *

_Ring. Ring. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing._

_Just answer the damn phone._

"Hello?"

"Hey, Yuugi, this is Mokuba."

"Hey, Mokuba." Yuugi seemed genuinely pleased to be talking to him.

"Have you seen my brother anywhere?"

There was a pause on the other end. "No, I haven't. Why? Is he late?"

Mokuba shook his head before realizing Yuugi wouldn't see it. "Nah, he's not late. He probably just disappeared to go work himself half to death and back."

Yuugi chuckled on the other end, but it sounded hollow to Mokuba's ears. He almost didn't hear the other bid him goodbye and hang up.

He just stood there, phone in his hand, staring at it without really seeing it at all.

_Yuugi's the only thing that could possibly make Nii-sama forget to tell me where he's going._

So, where was he?

Mokuba closed his cell phone, but flipped it open again seconds later when it began to ring, aggressively shaking with the tone setting he'd picked out for his brother's calls.

Eagerly the teen answered the phone, half a dozen questions out before the caller could say 'hello' and a dozen more on his tongue when a chill voice froze them.

_"You can stop looking for him. He's not coming home."_

The phone clicked off and Mokuba stood unmoving, staring at the little piece of technology in his hand that had radiated that voice. Those words.

_He's not coming home._

_You can stop looking._

_He's not coming home._

* * *

"And then the phone rang," Mokuba recounted dully. He was sitting between Yuugi and Anzu on the couch at the Kame Game Shop with Honda and Jou sprawled out on the floor halfway across the room.

"He's gone."

"What d'ya mean?" Jou seemed singularly at ease with the idea that Mokuba's only family had literally vanished into thin air.

Anzu glared at him, her hand reaching out to the teen staring into nowhere on the couch next to Yuugi.

"I'm sure we'll find him," Yuugi was saying, though his usually cheery voice was tempered by – something. Perhaps the Pharaoh was whispering in his ear.

Mokuba shook his head. "I'm not asking you to do anything," he said quietly, startling everyone into silence with the exception of Jounouchi.

"What d'ya mean?"

_Does he _know_ any other phrase? I'm beginning to see why Nii-sama despises him._

"I'm going after Seto," he answered, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "And I'm going _alone,_" he added when Yuugi's hand settled on his shoulder.

"Why are you being this way?"

_Do I really need a reason, Mazaki? _

He shook his head and stood up, wavering unsteadily on legs that had run too far, too fast, too short a time ago. But he'd made up his mind.

_Nii-sama's always coming after me – I can do the same for him._

"But Mokuba –"

Mokuba glared at Anzu. "I don't need the help, _Mazaki_," he answered sharply, then glanced at Yuugi. "I just didn't want you to worry too much."

"We will worry," the short duelist said softly. "I know Kaiba doesn't like having help tag along everywhere, but you're not your brother, Mokuba. Why won't you let us help you?"

Mokuba shook his head in lieu of granting an answer. _I don't know myself, Yuugi,_ he admitted silently, _but I feel this is something I have to do _alone.

"Jes like a Kaiba t' rush off inta danger witout even askin' fer help," Jou grumbled.

Honda elbowed him in the ribs, and Mokuba leveled the blond duelist with a murderous look. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that – this time," he announced softly. His voice hardened. "But if you _ever_ insult my family name or my brother again, I'll find a way to ban you from every Duel Monsters tournament forever afterwards."

"Yer bluffin'." Still, Jou looked uncertain, and certainly a little bit pale at the threat.

Mokuba pulled on his brother's trademark smirk. "Care to try me?"

Either the threat itself or his demonic appearance was enough to keep Jou from pressing the matter.

"I'll see you, Yuugi," Mokuba offered as a parting before leaving the Kame Game Shop.

_Now how do I find where my brother _is?

* * *

_Password,_ the computer challenged.

He gave the acceptable response and the dark screen cleared away. Perhaps he wasn't as adept at this as Seto, but he _did_ know the basics of computer hacking.

A safeguard slammed up.

But _only_ the raw basics.

_Dammit._

_You've got mail,_ flashed across the screen.

_Huh. An odd time for an email. _He _did_ consider that this could be a trick of some sort to lure him in, but he was beyond caring. Three clicks later and he'd opened the email.

_Still looking for our big brother, are we? Well, if you wanted to find him at all, all you had to do was _ask

A hyperlink glowed at the bottom of the page. "Find Seto", it read. Mokuba clicked it.

There was a blinding flash of light from the screen. He cried out in startlement, shielding his eyes from the suddenly too-brilliant monitor. The light gradually faded out, leaving white spots flickering in his vision.

_What the hell?_ he wondered dazedly.

A pair of hands grabbed at his arms out of the darkness.

With an angry yell, Mokuba wrenched his arms away and turned to punch – hard. His first blow landed on someone's stomach, and someone else got a bruise-calling kick to the shin.

"What the hell do you want? Where is he?" he growled, continuing to dole out punishments wherever he could see or feel movement.

He kicked again and heard a satisfying groan.

"Mokuba –"

That voice –

"Mokuba, it's us!"

* * *

It took them a while to find the light switch. Mokuba had kicked Jou by-accident-on-purpose a few times as everyone fumbled around, though admittedly, it was the blond's fault for muttering "ungrateful bastard" when Yuugi had stopped Mokuba from beating them all to a pulp.

As the lights slowly came to life, Mokuba withdrew to a solitary corner of the room, near the frozen computer. It looked like a fuse had blown and caused the bright explosion of light earlier.

Every so often, he cast a glance over at Yuugi-tachi – all of whom were nursing various ills. Anzu had sustained the brunt of his kicking to her shins. Jou and Honda's arms bore the marks of his nails and Yuugi sported what would soon turn into quite an impressive black eye.

Mokuba shuffled over to where Yuugi was. "Sorry for hitting you in the face," he mumbled.

Yuugi looked surprised and put a hand up to his face. The duelist winced when his hand contacted the newly forming bruise. "Honestly, I hadn't even noticed," he put in.

Mokuba shrugged and looked away.

"I don't need you help to do this," he said after a moment. "I can save my brother myself. I don't even know _why_ I told you guys, now. I should have known you'd act like this."

"Mokuba, all we want to do is help." Yuugi seemed to be pleading with him. The short duelist raised his hand as if to lay it on the black-haired teen's shoulder, then let it fall as he thought better of it.

Mokuba glowered. "I'm starting to think Seto is right," he growled. "Whenever you guys offer to help, trouble follows. I can't _afford_ trouble, and neither can Seto."

When Yuugi frowned, Mokuba's scowl deepened. "Look at what a mess you've made already." He indicated the others in the room clumped together comparing injuries.

Part of him protest that was unfair – it hadn't been anyone's _fault_, just the result of good aim and poor timing. Mokuba refused to listen.

"Go home, Yuugi, before you make things worse." He didn't stop to find out if his hurtful words had had any impact on the King of Games, walking out of the room without looking back.

* * *

Author's Note: I don't know if this will be a -ship fic yet. I was considering having established polar and maybe a Bakura one. No peach... I don't like Anzu enough to do her the favor (which means no azure either). So, this is a gift of sorts for Ancient Midnight, because inspiration struck around the time I read of the hope for more of Mokuba. Here's to hoping Mokie doesn't appear wimpy without his big bro around!

--I have no idea how Seto got captured, but that isn't really the focus. I imagine it would take nothing short of a small army to get him, but if a small army was required, they were invisible (thanks, 4KIDZ) and very, very quiet.  
--The explosion of light... Well, we all know how advanced computer systems are nowadays. So, for fun, let's combine computer systems and _magic!_


	2. On The Corner of Fairplay and Reason

**Disclaimer: **I. Do. Not. Own. These. Characters.  
**Warnings:** Mokuba thinking for himself..._without_ Seto around.

* * *

He ran. He ran until he didn't know where he was, until color blurred into a soggy heap of grey, melting in the raindrops.

_Rain?_

He found himself outdoors with limited knowledge of how he'd gotten there. Sure, rationally Mokuba knew he must have taken one of the exits to end up outside; unnervingly, he couldn't remember doing so.

No one else was on the street. No cars, either. Just a couple of run-down shops, and weeds stubbornly crawling out of cracks in the sidewalk.

_I didn't even know there was a place like this near KaibaCorp,_ he mused. A sign hung limply off a pole, marking the juncture of two streets. Thinking to regain his bearings and get home before continuing his search for Seto, Mokuba jogged over to it.

The words were impossible to decipher, smothered under graffiti that hadn't touched anything else. He felt chilled, and it was from more than the drops of rain, though those were swiftly growing icy as well.

_Where am I?_

"Wonderin' where we are, are we?" a heavily accented voice inquired.

Mokuba turned, struggling to maintain the perfectly calm face his older brother always wore. Maybe he couldn't look down his nose at anyone quite yet, but there was still a demeanor that let people know _who_, exactly, was superior in a confrontation.

"What do you want?" he snapped, proud that his voice didn't waver in the slightest. Maybe ending up here was coincidence, maybe the working of some outside power – whatever the reason, he wasn't backing down without a fight. Seto wouldn't.

The raggedy man offered a toothy smile and raised his hands. "No need ter loose yer venom on _me_, young mistah."

There was something about him Mokuba despised. Maybe it was the shifty gaze, the hunched shoulders, the thin odor of city scum wafting from where the man stood.

The stranger shifted that uncomfortable gaze from Mokuba's face to the sign, shaking his head a little bit.

Mokuba bristled at that easy dismissal. Still, better to be civil. "What street is this?"

A burst of maniac laughter startled him. "So we _are_ lost, aren't we?" His voice lost some of its insanity, adopting a sickly velvet purr instead. "But we won't be lost fah long," the man breathed, coming closer.

Mokuba backed up. He knew better than to say it, knew it never did what it was supposed to, but as that strangeness drew nearer, it pulled itself out.

"Get away!"

Just in time for the man's forward lunge.

Mokuba felt his skin crawl in all the places the stranger's unhealthy gaze touched. It was worse where his hands contacted.

But his brother hadn't taught him a human's weakest points for nothing.

A sharp jab in the ribs got the stranger's hands off him. Something cracked under his foot when he brought it down on the man's feet. Doubled over, gasping, and Mokuba wasn't done with him yet. A knee in the face – he felt the crunch of bone. When the man lunged for him one last time, Mokuba coolly dispatched him with fingers digging into the man's eye sockets.

He backed off, leaving the crumpled mess on the sidewalk, adrenaline still making his heart race. When he dared look back over his shoulder, whoever that had been had dragged himself away, out of sight. He turned forward and began to run.

* * *

The roar of a motor startled him out of his stupor. A black-clad rider on a motorbike pulled up beside him and the rider stopped, putting a foot down.

"I figured you'd go somewhere stupid, but even _I _know not to fool around in the slums." The rider pulled off the helmet.

"Following me?" Mokuba asked Honda wearily. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was feeling rather shaky.

"Yeah, Yuugi asked me to find where you went off to." When Mokuba glared at him, the brunet raised his hands defensively. "He just wanted to make sure you were okay, after you stormed out like that. The Pharaoh would've gone looking for you, but he can't drive, and my bike's too small to fit double."

Honda paused and Mokuba felt under intense scrutiny. "You're kinda pale. Something happen?"

He didn't answer, shrugging off the question in favor of one of his own. "If your bike can't carry double, I'm walking home right?"

Honda gave him an appraising look. "Half the reason I told Yuugi my bike was too small to fit double was because I wanted to give you two time to cool off." When Mokuba gave him a questioning look, Honda offered back a wry smile. "I don't often score points for being sensitive, but I _am_ observant. The Pharaoh wasn't too happy with you when you left."

Mokuba blinked and looked away.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"So there _is_ room on the bike?"

Honda pulled out another helmet and offered it to him. He took it and climbed up behind the brunet.

"Hold on," the older teen warned before the bike roared to life and sped off.

* * *

Bloodshot eyes watched the bike disappear into the distance. Their owner snarled silently running a hand over a bloody face, coming away smudged with dirtied crimson

The shadow next to him breathed out softly. Then it disappeared without a further sound, misting over and blowing away like so much chaff on the wind.

The bloodied person started shaking and then tottered off, muttering nonsensical nothings about aliens and a red trashcan in the sky.

The empty street swallowed him up.

* * *

Author's Note: Um...well, disappointing amount of reviews for the first chapter. Usually I'm not one to complain, but...one anonymous review? If no one likes it, I _can_ just get rid of it. :..:cries:..

--Yuugi can't drive, and therefore, the Pharaoh can't either. My world, my rules. (Although I think Yami would be one kickass driver. You know...the scary sort.)  
--I've decided I like Honda. Maybe he comes off a little pompous sometimes, but I firmly believe his heart's in the right place and he's got the whole shebang under control. Mostly. Plus, I needed someone who could drive to send off after Mokie and no way was Anzu getting a car. (Jou got into a crash when I tried him out, so that idea went out the door.)


	3. Alone Again Naturally

**Disclaimer: **I. Do. Not. Own. These. Characters.  
**Warnings:** Mokuba thinking for himself..._without_ Seto around.

* * *

A whirlwind of spiky hair in three colors pounced on Mokuba almost before he was off the bike. "You're okay!" Yuugi exclaimed, his arms wrapped so tightly around the black-haired teen's middle that Mokuba was having trouble breathing.

"Let him breathe, Yuugi!" Anzu came to Mokuba's rescue. The diminutive duelist removed his arms from where they were holding Mokuba hostage, still beaming like a lighthouse.

It made the black-haired teen acutely uncomfortable. Such a look simply _shouldn't_ exist, he decided. There was too much of the otherworldly about it.

"What happened? Where did you go? Are – " It seemed Yuugi would have continued his insistent questioning if Jou hadn't cut in, hands raised, eyes shining.

"What th'ell were ya doin' in da west-side?" the blond demanded, folding his arms and glaring possessively at Mokuba.

The teen glared back, ignoring the curious look Yuugi passed him. He debated several answers, but before he could make a reply, Honda interrupted his thoughts.

"I found him, Jou; doesn't mean anything."

Jou turned and growled. "Don' mean nuthin', my foot," he snapped. "Ain't _nobody_ goes inta my old neighborhood without some damn, f-ing reason!"

Apparently the blond expected Mokuba to be cowed, because he seemed very surprised when the slate-eyed teen drew himself up and met Jou's eyes. "Are you threatening me?" Mokuba demanded.

Yuugi's surprise melted into concern; Mokuba barely noticed the transition.

"No! 'Course not." Jou seemed honestly surprised at the insinuation.

"You can't tell me where I can and can't go," Mokuba snarled, very well aware that he sounded like a little child using that sort of argument. "There isn't a reason I _shouldn't_ have been allowed there."

Jou's mouth dropped open.

Honda raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, back off, Jou," he said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "If the little kid wants to go fooling around in the slums, who're we to stop him?"

Mokuba glowered, but didn't reply to the remark at all. He wouldn't dignify it with a response. He couldn't admit they might be right about something. There was a stubborn streak in Seto an ocean deep, and one in Mokuba to rival it.

Besides, if they were right about something, couldn't it follow they were right where he was wrong? No, best to ignore the inconsistencies. It simplified them.

* * *

"You're hurt." Just a simple statement, entirely lacking anything by way of inflection. Not a question – an uncomplicated fact.

Mokuba didn't deny it. He stared at the wall, his hands folded in his lap, seeing things that weren't there.

"What happened?"

He shrugged, not comfortable with the presence behind him, feeling the eyes o the back of his neck. How did Seto take the stares? he wondered in abstract.

"What happened?" More insistent, now; not asking to be told, but demanding it.

"Nothing…" He wasn't even aware of giving the answer, but his own voice was in his ears. Denying –

"Nothing…" It felt right. "Nothing happened." He spoke them, savoring each word as it passed his lips. Sugar-coated to perfection, a twisting of some truth to far from the mnd to be a care. Then once again –

"Nothing happened."

The presence behind him departed, leaving a feeling of acute disappointment in its wake. He drank it in, reveling in the poison sweet touch.

Nothing happened.

* * *

Mokuba felt like his mind was just waking up from being asleep, but that was impossible, considering that his _body _felt so very awake. He wasn't quite sure _where_ he was. He was standing, arms crossed in a way that reminded him of Seto. The door ahead of him…

It was a huge, iron door, ringed with numbers and wires and strange, blinking lights. Some touch in the back of his consciousness assured him. _Safe,_ the voice whispered. _Safe._

Have I been here before? Mokuba wondered as his fingers navigated the maze of codes that opened the door. He knew where he was _now._ This was the very bowels of the Kaiba mansion.

_I must have been here, otherwise how would I know this?_ he reasoned. The opening door dispelled any remaining doubts and he slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of mechanisms activating echoed. The feeling of safety vanished to be replaced with a white hot anger and furious disappointment. Then that too was gone, leaving just Mokuba in himself, alone in his own skin and feeling very confused indeed.

* * *

He picked out a cozy cement-lined and fell asleep – a difficult task. Things kept making noises and once he thought he saw a black rat scamper by.

Somehow though, Mokuba managed it anyway. He knew he was asleep because Seto was there, and even out of conscious thought, he knew his brother wasn't around. Circular logic demanded he be dreaming then. Or hallucinating.

Dreams seemed more normal.

Mokuba watched his brother, enjoying the bodiless feeling that accompanied dreams – floating over the bed, watching Seto work on his laptop at his desk. Simple things, little things.

A hand through his tidy, brown hair. The coffee mug with a message scrawled across it. A hushed curse word when something didn't cooperate. The gentle heat from the fireplace.

Growing warmer…

And warmer…

Beginning to burn –

Mokuba woke up to the sensation of fire eating his side and pulled back from the radiator he'd fallen asleep next to. It hadn't been on when he'd shut his eyes. When had it kicked in?

Blinking slowly, the slate-eyed teenager stretched, feeling the super-heated skin on his side scream. It felt too tight, like a shirt that he hadn't worn in years and now couldn't get off.

_I need a plan. It's all well and good to go tearing after someone if you've got an idea of where they might be, but I've got no clue. I couldn't find him online… I have no idea where he is!_ Mokuba bit his lip.

_I don't want to ask for help,_ he thought, half of him muttering rebelliously that he didn't need help; he was doing just –

_Just what? Falling on my face at every corner. Seto's little baby brother._ He felt bitter.

_Besides, even if I don't ask, they still show up. Yuugi's got a knack for ending up in the middle of anything important, and so does Seto._ Much as he hated to consider it.

_Maybe Yuugi can find him. Then I can save him._

A nice, rounded plan by all accounts, all being one.

_Now how do I get out of here?_ he wondered, looking at the door. It was handle-less and set too closely in the frame to even consider prying open. Mokuba stared at it, trying to force his mind into thinking objectively.

Just when he was bout to give up and go back to sleep to wait for another brilliant idea, he heard voices on the other side of the door.

With an ear pressed against the steel, he could hear them better, but all the sounds were curiously muffled and no voice was distinct enough for him to recognize. He jumped back from the door in surprise when someone – or was it something? – banged heavily on the outside.

The voices increased in volume, but they still were peculiarly impossible to make out.

He backed off as the pounding increased to a steady tempo, growing louder with each passing second, it seemed.

The door groaned then, and was silent. Mokuba covered his ears, feeling the pressure in the room begin to rise above intolerable before a silent implosion ripped the door off its hinges.

In the shadowy light he caught sight of a set of several someones in the doorway.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry about the time it took to update. I had to do my other ML story first, and I have major writer's block for that one... So here's the third chapter.

--The mug Seto has that Mokuba recalls actually says _Coffee: Do stupid stuff faster with more energy!_ I thought it was cute.


	4. A Taste of Strange

**Disclaimer: **I. Do. Not. Own. These. Characters.  
**Warnings:** Mokuba thinking for himself..._without_ Seto around.

* * *

"Mokuba –" The chilled voice belonged to one of them. "Come here."

The commanded pulled him unwillingly forward, feeling as though someone had attached strings to him. A puppet to the puppet master.

He looked up to his captors' faces. Honda, Jounouchi and Anzu glared back. But the voice hadn't belonged to any one of them.

"Behind you," that voice said, a hint of amused laughter hidden in its iciness.

Mokuba turned, moving slowly and trying to ignore the very surreal feeling of this all. Thinking about it would not make it go away. Not yet, anyway.

The face was unmistakably Yuugi's but with an air of frozen authority behind it that the teenager simply did not possess.

Mokuba said the first thing that came to his mind – it leapt off his tongue before he even considered the sense behind speaking. "You're not Yuugi," he blurted out.

Eyebrows went up. The stranger in Yuugi's body seemed surprised – impressed, even. "This is true. I am not."

There was something so _wrong_, Mokuba decided, about hearing someone declare that they were not themselves, even if it were to be absolute truth. Because, of course, if it were to be absolute truth it just made the whole scenario more messed up.

"Who are you, then?" the slate-eyed teen demanded. Perhaps a strange version of dementia had chosen that moment to manifest. Certainly, in a rational state, he never would have made such rash inquiries.

The stranger in Yuugi's body regarded him for a moment. That gaze made Mokuba feel so cold… Finally, the other broke the uncomfortable silence.

"I am called many things. I will leave it to you to choose. I am the darkness. I am fear. But also I hold hope. What manner of being does that make me?"

_He's speaking in riddles! All I asked for was a name…_ With all those eyes latched onto him, that burning cold set of violet eyes –

"Do you have an answer?" the stranger asked. His voice was patient. Too patient, masking a dangerous quality.

Mokuba opened his mouth, ready to tell this pretender off for that tone of voice; how dare he threaten a Kaiba? Their eyes locked and the hint of a smirk playing at the edges of the other's lips confused him long enough that he shut his mouth.

"Well?" No pretended patience any longer. A demand, pure and simple.

"I'll call you what I want," Mokuba growled.

The stranger's smirk widened. "Wrong answer," he replied.

A vicious backhand sent the black-haired teen sprawling. He landed hard, feeling the ungentle kiss of the cement floor against his side. It hurt, but not too bad. He came up to his feet, glaring, ready to take this other teen out. It didn't matter if it was Yuugi's body. If Mokuba was attacked he would defend.

The other teenager strolled forward, shadowed by the silent shapes of Jou, Anzu and Honda. Their silence was scarier than Yuugi's apparent possession. Jou, especially – the Mutt was never quiet. It was eerie.

Mokuba's eyes followed the movement of his presumed opponent. The cold personality that had invaded Yuugi's body stood with calm, assured authority. Mokuba recognized hints of Seto in him, but tried to force the connection out of his mind.

_Seto's actually_ nice.

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

The question startled Mokuba. "I wouldn't have asked if I knew," he shot back.

Anger blazed in the violet eyes. "You will not address me that way." Words, simple words. So why did they make him tremble inside?

His own defiance, ingrained in his very being by his brother, forced his response. "I'll talk to you any way I damn well please."

Again the flash of anger, but this time tempered with minor amusement. "When did you become your brother, Mokuba? His aggression does not suit you."

At the mention of Seto, Mokuba drew himself up. "I never 'became' Seto," he growled. "We were raised in the same house by the same man."

A quirked eyebrow met his words. "Under the same circumstances?"

Mokuba declined to answer. Unfortunately, his silence seemed to aggravate the stranger more than his clipped, rude responses had.

When had it all dipped into provocation?

The stranger stepped forward. Mokuba's laugh cut off midway with pressure on his neck destroying any attempt to think coherently.

* * *

"It's about time you woke up." The disinterested voice belonged to a white-haired teenager, sitting a few feet from where Mokuba found himself lying.

He recognized the kid as being one of Yuugi's friends. Baker? No – Bakura. That was it.

Bakura wasn't looking at him, seeming instead to be preoccupied with the wall. eVery so often he emitted a sounder rather like a smothered chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Mokuba asked suspiciously after the third one.

The young man turned to face him. The gaudy golden ring he always wore was conspicuously absent. Warm brown eyes crinkled at the edges in amusement.

Mokuba bit his lip to keep from growling. Why did everyone seem to find him _amusing_?

"Bakura's ranting," the white-haired teen answered, as if that explained everything.

_Bakura's – wait! I thought he was Bakura!_

His confusion became complete when the other young man rolled his eyes and said, "If you insist," to thin air.

Mokuba watched with calculated curiosity as the other teen stretched then caught his eye.

"Hello, Mokuba."

He froze. That was Seto's voice.

* * *

/You didn't have to be so mean to him./

/I wasn't./ The Pharaoh was lounging in his soul room in the Puzzle, watching Yuugi though half-lowered lashes.

/Of course you were! All that about his brother – you _know_ how sensitive the two of them are about each other!/

The Pharaoh offered a fluid shrug as his reply. When his hikari continued to glare at him, the spirit sighed. /You know you can smooth over any feather I've ruffled, aibou/ he coaxed gently. /It doesn't make so great a difference./

/Yes, it does/ Yuugi snapped, but he softened almost immediately.

The Pharaoh hid his smirk of triumph; Yuugi never could hold onto anger long enough to make it an effective weapon.

/I guess I'd better go talk to him then/ Yuugi sighed. He paused a moment. /Are you still mad at him for hitting me? I know you barely noticed, and I didn't really either – /

/No one harms you, aibou/ the Pharaoh replied, eyes flashing. /I do not forgive, and I certainly do not forget./ Yuugi looked about to protest, and the spirit held up a hand to forestall any argument. _/I_ do not/ he repeated, /but _you _do, and whatever you decide, I will abide by./

Yuugi smiled a little at that. /Then please, don't be mad at Mokuba. I don't hold it against him./

/As you wish./

The teenager nodded and stepped out of the Pharaoh's soul room and into his own body.

* * *

"S-seto?" Mokuba asked in a trembling voice.

"Not quite," Bakura's voice answered. Only, it wasn't really Bakura's voice at all. Like the stranger in Yuugi's body, there was a stranger hiding in the white-haired teenager.

Mokuba knew better than to rashly demand – the slowly darkening bruise on his face from the confrontation with Yuugi's darker side had taught him that much, at least. And no Kaiba had to be taught the same lesson twice.

Instead, he cautiously inquired, "Who are you?"

The white-haired host body gave him a peculiar look. Then, a burst of crazy, maniac laughter erupted from that same slender frame. There was so much wrong with that picture! Not that he'd ever heard Bakura laugh before but –

It couldn't possibly sound like _that._

"I'm the same person I was five seconds ago," the voice snapped, almost before the laughter had abated. "The same person…" the white-haired teen drawled, holding up a hand as if to admire it, "…without any inhibitions."

The hand became a fist and the brown eyes that had been warm and friendly a moment before now burned with a twisted fire.

Mokuba froze, his eyes locked with this stranger's – drowning in an impossibly deep nothingness without anything to lever himself out.

"Bakura!"

The voice snapped him out of the daze he'd fallen into. Both heads turned simultaneously to see Yuugi – the real Yuugi – coming down the stairs, his hair bouncing lightly with each step.

Bakura recoiled, and it was only then that Mokuba realized just how close the white-haired male had been.

He shivered slightly. Yuugi's eyes were sharper than he'd thought; the teen knelt beside him, concern in his face, put a hand on Mokuba's arm.

"Are you all right?"

_Why are those the first words out of anyone's mouth? Am I not capable of taking care of myself?_

"I'm fine," he snapped, pulling his arm back a little harder than he'd intended. A brief flash of red echoed in Yuugi's eyes – gone almost before Mokuba was sure he'd seen it. The sight left him unnerved.

Yuugi's face was troubled but when he turned away, Mokuba was not sorry.

_I'm not weak. I'm not dependent on anyone. I can't afford to be._

Yuugi was speaking softly to Bakura. Every so often, his form of address changed – Ryou, Bakura, Bakura, Ryou…

Mokuba couldn't follow the pattern, though it seemed to correspond to the level of tension in the white-haired one's shoulders. The extremes belonged to 'Ryou'. The middle, carelessly relaxed state – that was Bakura.

What the hell is going on? He wanted to ask, to get a better handle on this whole thing, but it seemed like a poor choice to draw attention when it had finally abandoned him.

The relaxed shoulder and ill-intent version – Bakura – shot him a twisted smile over Yuugi's head. Mokuba shivered, doing his best to suppress the tremors.

Yuugi's soft voice exchanged places with a slightly lower one, brimming with careless overconfidence. Pride well won, but pride nonetheless.

Mokuba's eyes narrowed.

Yuugi's shadowy stranger was back.

* * *

Author's Note: It feels like I'm randomly wandering back and forth though this world. Sorry that it's less than coherent. I think I may have to go though and edit when I'm done.

--Bakura sounding like Seto: I figured that if Bakura's the thief king, he would also be a master of disguise, including being able to imitate voices. Just threw that in for flavor, and it doesn't really have much significance, but it hit me while I was writing and I tend to agree with whatever hits me...  
--Mokie seems to do a whole lot of flinching/trembling/cowering and generally acting weak in this chapter. However, he's still got the Kaiba-esque defiance etched into him, so I guess it all evens out and leaves him a regular teen fooling around with magical items.


	5. Answers that Aren't

**Disclaimer:** I. Do. Not. Own. Them.  
**Warnings:** Hysterical laughter, bad puns, possible death(s).

* * *

/You don't really think Kaiba's dead, do you?/ Yuugi asked.

/I neither know, nor care about his well-being/ the Pharaoh answered. /His is a path too twisted for logic, and he is trapped within his own mind. Forgive me, aibou, but we have more pressing concerns than an unfortunate death./

/So you _do_ think he's dead!/ Yuugi wailed.

The Pharaoh winced. He hadn't meant to sound so callous – not if it upset Yuugi. In vain he tried to calm his lighter self, but the hysteric teen refused comfort. His innocent, violet eyes were wide.

/How am I going to tell Mokuba?/ he demanded.

The Pharaoh shook his head. /I'm sorry aibou – I think he already knows./

Yuugi sank slowly to his knees. The smothered sobbing that had reverberated down their link faded to nothing. /He knows?/ he whispered, the shadowy echoes of his words making the Pharaoh's heart ache.

/Think about it, aibou/ the Pharaoh chided gently. /Mokuba has been looking, but not really _looking._ He hasn't even truly begun to search for his brother. Such token attempts as he has made – simply denial. He does not wish to believe Kaiba is gone any more than you do./ It seemed perfectly obvious.

Yuugi perked up. /That's what you're basing it off?/ the violet-eyed teen demanded.  
The Pharaoh saw no reason to deny it. Yuugi broke into half-hysterical, half-relieved laughter, but refused to answer his dark as to why. Of course…his inability to _stop_ the hysterics may have had something to do with that.

* * *

"I still don't get it," Mokuba growled, throwing down another set of cards in disgust. Pair of Kings, trumped by triple Aces.

"What, me or him?" Bakura, buttering an English muffin, waved the knife in the general direction of the Pharaoh.

Mokuba growled again. "Both of you," he spat. "Him for winning without trying and you for not being good at explaining."

The white-haired male glared at him for a moment before shrugging and turning around to much loudly on his food. "I give up, Pharaoh. _You_ can try to explain the specifics to the damn brat."

Yuugi's stranger glowered over Mokuba's shoulder. "Someone finally invented a lock you couldn't pick, Thief King?"

Bakura returned the look with a dirty one of his own and an unintelligible response – though he managed to spray both of them with muffin crumbs.

"Try again, _without_ the food," Mokuba suggested, brushing wet specks off his face with a grimace.

"I _said,_ 'A boy's dense skull isn't a lock.' I work with _finesse_, Pharaoh – you're the only one relying on brute force here."

Maybe Mokuba could have managed to look offended, but if he did that, mighten the other two not explain things? _I still don't get what the mean by all this sacrifice and fate and items and war crap, _he reflected bitterly. _And for all their rattling on about it, it doesn't seem to be connected to Seto in _any_ way._

Yuugi's stranger started to explain things…again. Mokuba tried to be attentive, but the same type of 'destiny, fate and higher power' soon had his mind floating in limbo – hearing but not listening at all, really.

* * *

/I don't think you're going about this the right way./

/How would _you_ do it, aibou?/ The Pharaoh was more uptight than usual, Yuugi noticed. He seemed to be taking Mokuba's inability to grasp concept as a personal affront.

/Well/ the violet-eyed duelist commented thoughtfully, /you may want to cut back on the big concepts. He's not Kaiba, but he is _a_ Kaiba; destiny, fate and magic go right over their heads./ Yuugi cocked his own head to the side for a moment, watching from beside the Pharaoh-in-his-body. /You may want to point out how the Items relate to Kaiba/ the teen added, somewhat hesitantly. /It may help keep his attention./

/If you think it will help./

Yuugi nodded. /I'm sure of it./

* * *

It was quiet. The silence broke Mokuba out of his daze. He looked up at Yuugi's stranger, expecting to see the dangerous flash of scarlet that meant he was angry…but instead, he merely looked pensive.

"I haven't explained this well, I think," he said.

A snort from Bakura extracted a glare.

Mokuba made as if to say something, but Yuugi's stranger kept speaking right overtop him. "I keep forgetting you aren't like aibou and his friends." Sharp eyes, with that faint red tinge. "I keep forgetting exactly_ who_ you are."

_Who I am? But I haven't changed!_

"Kaiba would never understand things the way I've explained them, and it's foolish to expect you to be any more mature than your brother." The cunning, underhanded insult left Mokuba glaring, but the other kept speaking, giving him no time to protest the besmirching of his – and his brother's – name.

"The Items are beginning their own war once again. Kaiba felt it – he went after the Millennium Rod."

"But Malik has the Rod," Mokuba protested.

A grim expression stole across the face of Yuugi's stranger. "That is, in part," he said quietly, "why your brother is missing."

_If he went after Malik, he must have gotten the Rod. Nii-sama can out-duel anyone!_ Well, except for Yuugi, but that was beside the point.

"Kaiba may not – " There was a disjointed, expressionless look that stole across his face at odd intervals. One did then, mid-sentence, leaving Mokuba hanging.

* * *

/Don't you _dare _tell Mokuba his brother might not be alive!/

The Pharaoh started in surprise. He hadn't expected Yuugi to drag him out of the conversation so swiftly. /Aibou – the chance he's still alive - /

/Still _exists_/ Yuugi interrupted firmly. More gently, he added, /Kaiba is all Mokuba really has, mou hitori no boku. Would you take that away from him?/

The Pharaoh sighed. /You would offer him false hope, aibou?/

/Hope is never false./

* * *

Mokuba cleared his throat again. Finally Yuugi stirred from that trance-like state. He half-expected Bakura to make some snide comment or other about the sudden absence of dialogue, but the white-haired mail seemed to have gone back to conversing with himself.

When the tri-colored duelist moved at last, Mokuba sat up a little straighter and bombarded him with questions immediately. "What were you saying about Nii-sama? He may not what?"

Red-flecked eyes blinked, and looked past him. "Bakura," Yuugi's stranger snapped irritably, "we're going now."

"Wait! But what about Seto?" Mokuba exclaimed.

"Mokuba, it's really for the best," Yuugi said, wide violet eyes twinkling. "We'll come back for you. Don't worry."

"I'm not – "

The door closed and it was quiet. The very air seemed to have lost the ability to transmit sound.

_What's going on?  
_

* * *

It was late when they came back. How late, Mokuba couldn't tell. The lazily flickering, fluorescent lights didn't offer much of a hint as to what time it was. And there were no windows. He felt caged, and had taken to pacing. One time, one hundred times – what difference did it make?

When the door cracked open, four people streamed through. Mokuba recognized them all. He stopped pacing, taking the opportunity to level a glare at the others. The faintest touches of a blush stained Ryou's cheeks. Anzu seemed oblivious; her eyes were focused on Yuugi. Out of all of them, Honda was the only one to really acknowledge his presence – the only one to come over and break the stalemate. For that, Mokuba warmed a little.

_Maybe this is what Nii-sama could have been like, if it weren't for Gozaboru,_ he mused. Honda was similar in so many respects to Seto… Perhaps a little _too_ similar, at least for Mokuba's peace of mind.

"Where were you?" he asked Yuugi. His voice…it was so cold and distant. The comparison had to be made – he sounded like his brother.

It was Anzu who answered, but her flowery prose made no impact on him. His slate eyes remained locked on Yuugi. "Why did you leave me?"

The violet-eyed teen wouldn't look at him. An uncomfortable silence descended, before Yuugi broke it. His voice was higher than usual and a bit breathy when he spoke. "Anzu and Honda are staying overnight."

Mokuba tried pressing a few more ways, but Yuugi – damn him – wouldn't answer either question, where or why. Eventually he gave up getting an answer and found a corner to sulk in while the others vanished up the stairs.

Time passed slowly again. Whether it was seconds or hours later when Honda reappeared, he wasn't sure. The door clicking shut softly behind the brunet drew Mokuba out of his mental wanderings to focus sharply on the present.

"You've been down here a while," Honda observed, standing a ways away.

From his vantage point on the floor, Mokuba glared up. He had no idea how long he _had_ been down here…wherever _here_ was, but he didn't appreciate the subtle reminder – or was it an insinuation? – that he was a prisoner of sorts. "Why are _you_ here?"

Honda took a few steps forward and squatted next to Mokuba. His presence wasn't precisely comforting, but it was a great deal warmer than the company of cement walls.

"I didn't feel like watching Anzu's attempts at flirtation," the brunet answered.

Mokuba blinked. "She's flirting with Yuugi?" he asked, slightly astonished.

Honda shook his head. "Nah, she's going after the Pharaoh and Ryou. But since the Pharaoh won't come out while she's around, she's practically molesting poor Ryou." The brunet shuddered slightly. "It's not anywhere near grade A entertainment. Besides, I thought you might be a bit lonely. Just because Kaiba doesn't know kindness from a murder attempt doesn't mean the same is true with you."

Mokuba just stared.

The biker seemed not to notice, leaning back to settle himself on the cold floor. "It's like a dungeon in here."

Mokuba frowned. "Why won't he come out when Mazaki's around?"

"Huh?" Honda looked momentarily confused. "Oh, the Pharaoh? Well, he and Yuugi haven't said anything definitive yet, but I've got an inkling the two of them have hit it off pretty well."

Silence followed as Mokuba took a moment to process that bit of information. When dawning comprehension crossed his face, Honda laughed slightly. "You're getting it then. For a moment I was afraid I'd have to spell it out."

"But – " Mokuba's head hurt at the implications. "How?"

Another laugh, this one much drier. "I have no idea. All I know with regards to those two is you jump when the Pharaoh tells you, and if you have to piss one of them off, you better hope it's Yuugi."

"That's all you know?" Mokuba was skeptical.

Honda shrugged, hands out wide. "I've followed Yuugi for a long time, but I've never pretended to understand anything he or the Pharaoh do."

"I guess you couldn't tell me why Yuugi's keeping me here then."

The brunet scratched his head, looking thoughtful. "Actually, I sort of thought it was the same reason he was keeping Ryou here – just to keep an eye on the potentially dangerous parties."

Mokuba sat up very straight. "'Potentially dangerous'?" he echoed, disbelieving. "I'm not dangerous!"

A shrug greeted his proclamation. "Maybe you aren't by yourself, but since Kaiba got the Rod from Malik, you've both become more problematic."

"What?" _My brother got the Rod? How doe she know? How does that make a problem? I thought Yuugi trusted Nii-sama._ Bitter confusion seeped into the black-haired teen, but his questions had to remain, for the moment at least, unanswered.

"Honda – we need you up here." Yuugi's voice resonated down into the hollow concrete block.

With an exaggerated sigh and a wink, the biker rolled to his feet and left.

_The more I try to learn, the muddier the water becomes._

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Since I'm restarting this story, it feels a bit choppy moving on from chapter four… I hope it doesn't read like that, though.  
On a note about the title, I thought barrie18 might get a kick out of it, seeing as how there are always questions from that end, and I never answer them. :)  
At least...not directly.


	6. Circular Logic

**Disclaimer:** I. Do. Not. Own. Them.  
**Warnings:** Anzu.

* * *

/Can you get her off Ryou? It's becoming sickening./

Yuugi laughed. /I thought you said you didn't – /

/That I didn't care who she touched as long as it wasn't you or I, yes, yes/ the Pharaoh groaned. /I'm taking that back. I think it's more nauseating watching than being attacked./

/It's flirting, not murder/ Yuugi protested. The suppressed wince from the Pharaoh made him laugh again. /If you're so anxious to stop her, why not get Bakura out?/ he suggested.

The Pharaoh stared at him.

/What? _He_ wouldn't let her get away with that./

The Pharaoh's reply was carefully constructed and delivered deliberately. /Aibou, I was under the impression that you liked Anzu./

/Huh? _No_, of course I -/

/Then _why_ by Osiris, would you want to unleash Bakura? Or have you forgotten exactly what he is?/

/Oh./ Yuugi's voice was small. /I _do_ keep forgetting/ he admitted. /I mean, when he's with us and Ryou, he seems…nice. Maybe a little rough around the edges, but nice./

The Pharaoh was gentle as he moved to comfort Yuugi. /He's a thief, and a masterful one. He controls emotions, aibou. Never forget it./

The violet eyed teen relaxed into the other's embrace. /I'll try not to. It's hard./

A soft chuckle. /You're so trusting, aibou. No matter what. You never cease to amaze me./

Yuugi blushed softly. Before he could reply, the Pharaoh added, /Anzu's trying to get your attention./

* * *

"Earth to Yuugi. Earth to Yuug – "

"I'm listening, Anzu," Yuugi interrupted.

On the couch, looking distinctly relieved to have escaped the brunt of Anzu's attention for the time being, was Ryou. Honda had vanished. Probably gone downstairs to see Mokuba, Yuugi reasoned. The biker had developed an attachment to the black-haired kid. Vaguely Yuugi wondered how Kaiba would react once he returned.

Because Kaiba _was_ alive, or had been, just the other day, according to Malik. And while Bakura had made several snide remarks regarding the tomb keeper's reliability, Yuugi hadn't seen any reason not to believe him. Malik had no reason (other than the possibility of sheer malice) to lie.

/Before you start discussing the Items, call Honda. He should know too/ the Pharaoh put in.

Yuugi gave a mental affirmative and skittered away to get the biker. Moments later, the two of them returned, and Honda casually claimed the seat beside Ryou. "So, what's up this time?" The world in imminent danger again?"

/He shouldn't take the world's safety so lightly./

Yuugi couldn't read from that flat lined voice if the Pharaoh was joking or being serious. /Um - /

/I'm joking aibou, though seriously, it shouldn't be taken lightly./

_So he's joking about something serious that should be kept serious. Okay. At least it's not as tangled as 'he's only pretending to look, so Kaiba must really be dead' this time.  
_  
"Yuugi?" It was Honda, looking questioning.

The diminutive duelist blushed a bit. "Sorry – the Pharaoh had a few things to say. Anyway –"

The discussion took off from there. Vaguely, Yuugi sent a tendril of thought to curl around the image of Mokuba, wondering why exactly it was that the Pharaoh had insisted he be left out of this.

* * *

Mokuba took advantage of the quiet to curl up. He felt tired, for some reason. It could have something to do with the air down here, he supposed. Rather imperfectly comfy on the concrete floor, he pillowed his head on his arms and stared off at nothing.

_Sleep. You should sleep. Answers come to those who sleep.  
_  
He sighed inside, and answered the prompt, not really knowing why. He figured Honda would be down soon anyway to wake him up – it didn't matter if he took a bit of time to catch some shut eye.

* * *

_"Mokuba!"_

He turned, spinning on his heel like a demented thing, hearing that voice, knowing who it belonged to –

"Seto!"

Dreams were funny, he decided, getting swept up in his brother's intangible arms. There was no smell to his brother, no solid physical presence to assure him everything was all right. Despite that though, there was still a comfort in seeing his brother, and knowing that his mind remembered every vivid detail about him.

"Mokuba, I'm only going to tell you this once." Seto's mouth was close to his ear, his voice hushed. The confidential tone, so urgent, made Mokuba tense up a little, preparing his memory to accept whatever he needed to memorize. Seto wasn't the only one who had taken lessons at the hand of unmerciful tutors.

"I can't come to you. I can't come back. I'm sorry, so sorry."

He couldn't pull back out of those strong arms to see if there was genuine regret behind his brother's blue eyes. It wasn't readable in his voice – Seto had never been expressive with his voice. Sarcasm, anger and hatred all sounded the same.

"Why not, Nii-sama?" Mokuba asked softly. "Why won't you come back?"

The tense arms around him tightened. "I would, but I can't. You'll have to come to me. You know where I am. You know where to find me." Seto did pull back then, letting go of Mokuba with one arm to reach forward and tap him on the forehead gently with a long, slender finger. "It's all up here, if you'll remember. You can come find me anytime." A scowl crossed his face. "Just leave the losers at home, okay?"

Mokuba nodded and pressed back into his brother's arms, trying to prove to himself it wasn't a dream, even though he knew it was. He couldn't feel_ Seto properly, for one thing. It was like hugging morning mist tightly – intangible at best._

"How do I know? Where are you, Nii-sama?"

"You know," Seto assured him, but it didn't feel like reassurance to Mokuba. There was a hint of dangerous anger hidden beneath the quilted exterior, like someone else was speaking through his brother. Someone without the patience to deal with a – a little kid.  
  
Little kid. _Little_ kid. Is Nii-sama trying to tell me to grow up? Or am I trying to tell myself I need to?

_In the midst of his musings, Mokuba looked up to see his brother walking off in the stilted manner of dream-beings, not so much moving forward as shifting from place to place in a general direction. And he was unable to follow, restrained by Swords of Revealing Light, played by the duelist across from him sporting vicious spikes and eyes that blazed like pools of liquid flame.  
_

* * *

A hand on his shoulder was shaking him, back and forth, back and forth, back and –

"Wha – Honda?" Mokuba jerked out of his dream, and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The brunet was leaning over him, and was the owner of the hand that had pulled him out of the dream-turned-nightmare.

"Last time I checked, yeah," the biker answered with small laugh. "You having a nightmare?"

Mokuba denied it, though from the concern in Honda's eyes, he guessed he had no real reason to. _No reason, except that only babies have nightmares. Only _little kids.

Dark eyes didn't seem inclined to agree with him, however. Honda took a seat next to him, and took back his hand, just sitting there, rocking thoughtfully in silence. It took a while for Mokuba to break that silence, but finally, he did.

"What time is it?" It seemed an innocent enough question to ask.

"Can't read your own watch?" Honda teased.

Feeling inexplicably guilty, Mokuba moved the wrist with the watch out of view. "It's not always accurate," he lied.

Honda shrugged. "Well, mine says it's about twelve-thirty in the morning."

Mokuba made a disbelieving sound. "It can't be that early."

"Why not?"

Well…it had been light out when they'd brought him, hadn't it? And wasn't it…still…?

_Oh. No windows,_ he remembered sheepishly. "Would I be tired if it was that early?" he challenged, only to force himself to suppress a yawn a few seconds later.

"Give it up," Honda advised. "I just got out of the 'Save The World' meeting. I'm not in a mood to be arguing particulars."

"What were they talking about?" Mokuba asked.

The biker shrugged. "Probably the same stuff Bakura said he was trying to explain to _you_," he said dismissively. "Nothing of real importance unless you happen to be an ancient spirit, its host or related to someone believed to be reincarnated. Since I'm none of those…"

"Neither am I."

Honda gave him a look that seemed to ask 'Are you so sure?' but said nothing further on that particular subject. "There was one other topic though." Dark eyes met his. "Kaiba."

"What about him?" Did his words betray the way his heart jumped at the mention of his brother's name? Was he so transparent when Seto was brought up that it was obvious to anyone with eyes? Judging by the look on Honda's face, Mokuba thought it probably was. In general circumstances, that wouldn't have presented a problem. It seemed like it could potentially become one now, though, so tried to keep it to a minimum. Talking about his brother had that effect on him.

Honda favored him with an odd look and a casual silence before replying. "Well, he's alive for one thing."

Mokuba shot him a sharp look. "What would have made you think he wasn't?" the teen demanded.

For the time being, Mokuba found his question evaded as Honda continued. "According to the Pharaoh, Malik thinks the Rod is controlling Kaiba. More magic stuff – I just tune that out, so I can't tell you much more than that."

"And?" Mokuba pressed eagerly.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and Bakura came down. "Pouring sweet nothings into the brat's ear are we?" the white-haired male inquired, flopping down on the cement. He looked so damned comfortable that Mokuba wondered how he managed it.

"Just telling him what isn't too much for sane minds to comprehend," Honda corrected.

Bakura frowned. "You know the Pharaoh wouldn't approve." A devious grin stole across his face. "Let's tell him everything then!"

Mokuba made a face. "You already tried the explaining stuff, didn't you?" he countered. "Fat lot of good that did me. I can still tell up from down and left from right, but if you lined up the Items with name plates, I'd get them all wrong."

"Even the Puzzle?" Bakura wanted to know. "Because that would take an idiot of pyramid proportions to manage that."

He glared at the white-haired male.

"I guess we know which half got all the brains then," Bakura taunted. "I guess Kaiba took your share as well?"

Honda moved between them before Mokuba could attack. "The Pharaoh would kick your ass if you touched him," the biker warned.

"I'd only kill him a little bit."

"Not funny, Bakura."

"Remind me again why we're keeping the brat. He's disposable – that's the first time I've agreed with the Pharaoh, and I never intend to do so again."

Mokuba stood up and moved off, away from the brunet and the white-haired male. _So I'm 'disposable,' am I?_ he thought bitterly. _Maybe it's about time I left. They can't keep me locked up. _The beginning of his dream came flooding back to him. _Seto said I'd know where to find him. I can find him _without _Yuugi's help._ That decided him.

"I'm leaving."

"No, you're not."

When had Yuugi's stranger come in?


	7. Alice in Wonderland

**Disclaimer:** I. Do. Not. Own. Them.  
**Warnings:** Twisted games.

* * *

"What do you mean I'm not?" Mokuba demanded, crossing his arms. "You can't stop me."

Yuugi's stranger grinned. It looked demonic spread across that face. "Watch me." He began to circle Mokuba, slowly, carefully. "Let's play a game. If you win, I'll let you go. If you lose, you're staying here."

"How about no game, and I leave right now," the teen growled.

The flat, icy calm wavered for a moment, before resettling into place. Fiery eyes gleamed. Mokuba remembered the Swords of Revealing Light in his dream, and the duelist who had played them. Fire eyes. Burning pools of liquid flame.

"I don't think so. I think – " Yuugi's stranger stopped, facing Mokuba. They were so close Mokuba though he could feel the heat pouring from the other's crimson-specked, violet eyes.

A slight laugh escaped the other. "I think the game is mind reading. Tell me – what am I thinking?"

Mokuba frowned. "That's not a game at all. Besides, I already said I wasn't going to play." He turned to leave, but Bakura was blocking the way. _When did he move there?_ Mokuba wondered.

"Too late. Game…_start."_

* * *

/Care to explain why you're playing a Shadow Game with Mokuba?/ Yuugi demanded, glaring at the Pharaoh.

A shrug was his response. /He wanted to leave. I couldn't let him./  
Yuugi growled in exasperation. /People get _hurt_ in Shadow Games, Pharaoh. Call it off./

/You know as well as I do that a Shadow Game can't be cancelled once started/ he replied, apologetically.

At least, Yuugi_ thought_ he was apologetic about it. Sometimes it was damn hard to tell. The Pharaoh was quite good at concealing his actual emotions. Very like Kaiba sometimes, in fact…

/He won't get hurt anyway/ the Pharaoh added.

Yuugi cocked his head, questioning.

/He's only trying to guess my mind./

/Now _that_ is the least fair contest I've heard/ Yuugi protested. /You have a million ways around him guessing what you're thinking, _including_ using _my_ thoughts! That's cheating, right there./

/It's not cheating/ the Pharaoh argued. /It's an insurance policy against losing. He can't be let go, aibou. The Rod has enough supporters as it is. It doesn't need one more./

Yuugi growled, but really, there wasn't anything he could do. The Pharaoh was right about the impossibility of cancelling a Shadow Game once it had been declared.

/You promised you wouldn't hurt him/ the diminutive duelist put in, slightly sullen.

/And I won't/ the Pharaoh agreed. /I'll just keep him here, aibou. Nothing more, nothing less./

The expression crossing his face wasn't pleasant in the least.

/_Nothing_ less./

* * *

Mokuba crossed his arms stubbornly. "I'm not playing," he said again.

Yuugi's stranger looked as if he hadn't even heard him. "I'm thinking of something," he said, his deep voice low and aggressive. "Tell me, Mokuba, what am I thinking of?"

_Everything! Nothing!_ Mokuba's mind supplied answers, but he didn't dare voice them, instead arguing still. "I don't want to."

"That's not what I'm thinking of," the other answered.

Mokuba half-expected another painful slap across his face the way it had happened before. He flinched when Yuugi's stranger raised his hand.

The other looked amused. "My turn – "

"I'm not _playing,"_ he growled in response, pushing past the other. "I'm _leaving."_

Something pulled him back, pushed him back so that he was facing Yuugi's stranger again, unsure why he couldn't seem to escape. He turned again, meaning to run away, but, no matter where he looked, there were copies of Yuugi's body, leering in that demonic fashion, eyes lit up with scarlet blood corrupting the violet.

"I'm leaving!" echoed around and around and around, leaving him disoriented. That was his voice, no Bakura's voice, except it couldn't be because it was actually Honda's, and mid-syllable it switched to Seto's voice, and then _he_ was yelling it, and…and..

_Leaving…leaving…leave…  
_  
Running forward, he could run forward. It led him in circles, racing around with no destination, swerving to avoid the obstacles that really were people, all staring at him with incredulity lacing their gazes. Just laughing at him.

It was the laughter that hurt the most. He skidded to a halt, stopping his headlong rush to escape. _Would Seto try to escape?_ came to haunt him.

_Would Seto want me to abandon him?_ followed right on its heels.

What ifs, all of them, floundering around in the back of his head, while strong hands gripped his shoulders and pushed him forward, so he was standing opposite Yuugi – no, not Yuugi. That wasn't Yuugi.

Yuugi's stranger, red-flecked gaze and all, grinning.

"Think about something. Let me guess your mind."

_He can't possibly guess what I'm thinking,_ Mokuba thought desperately. _He can't think of what I'm thinking._  
What was one thing no one else had ever gone through? What was something that only he knew, that maybe only he and Seto had ever known?

Think of what I'm thinking -

Lack of family, dependence, addiction, pain, rage. What was something the darkness couldn't understand?

Friendship, teamwork, hard labor, trust.

Too many things that darkness worked with anyway.

_What was it that Seto told me about the fairytale heroes? The villains?  
_  
As he recalled his brother's words, Mokuba accepted that he'd been drawn into a game he couldn't escape. He would play it out, in his brother's name, to the best of his own ability, no matter how strange the rules were. _If there even are rules,_ his mind added as an afterthought.

If there even were rules.

"Guess my mind," he challenged, glaring into red eyes with venom.

* * *

/That wasn't fair at all/ Yuugi grumbled, sitting and glaring in the back of the Pharaoh's consciousness.

/I fail to see how it wasn't. I gave him an opportunity. He failed at the task/ the Pharaoh replied. His aibou's answering grumble made him smile slightly. /Aibou, he cannot be let go. I am not hurting him. You requested that I would not, and so I have not. But he cannot be let go./

/And why not?/ Yuugi demanded, crossing his arms in a decent impersonation of angry.

The Pharaoh chuckled and ran a hand through his host's hair. Yuugi shook it away irritably. He didn't see why Mokuba couldn't be let go, or why he couldn't go see Kaiba. There was the possibility of the Rod gaining more supporters, but he failed to see how that was actually possible when all seven of the people wielding Millennium Items had already declared allegiances. What difference would one little boy make in the general scheme of things?

He pointed that out, and the Pharaoh dismissed it with a general all-encompassing statement about destiny and fate. Yuugi sighed. He was getting awfully tired of fate.

* * *

The crimson-flecked violet flickered back to pure purple before becoming corrupted again. Those eyes stared at him, bored into him for the longest time. Mokuba tried to hold fast to the once concept he believed Yuugi's stranger could never understand, and couldn't possibly guess.

Did his face look like he was remembering Gozaboru? He hoped it did, if only to throw the other off track. Did he look like there were terrible memories in his head? Well, there were, but those memories were what had selected this particular concept for him…

"You're thinking about your brother," Yuugi's stranger finally pronounced.

Mokuba glared back in fierce delight. "No, I'm not."

A smirk was still across that smug face. "Of course you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"You are."

"Are not."

"Are."

"Not."

"You're acting childish."

"You started it!" He regretted the words instantly. A childish reply, it only confirmed the other's accusation. "But I wasn't thinking about Seto," he grumbled. "I was thinking about unity."

"You're unified with Kaiba," the other acknowledged. "Therefore, in the abstract, Kaiba was in your mind. You were thinking about him, however indirectly. You're staying."

Mokuba gaped at him. "Anything could be thought about 'indirectly'," he protested. "That would have made me right when I said I didn't want to play!"

Yuugi's stranger nodded. "That is correct. However – " the devilish smirk made Mokuba angry " – you never said anything."

_So that's how the game is played? I guess you were right, Seto. Again. Every hero has a villain lurking in him, and every villain can use a hero's qualities. Villains are just heroes for the other side… But who's side is _he_ on?  
_

* * *

Author's Notes:  
Attempting to go for something slightly more surreal.


	8. Dreams

Warnings: Oh, the usual...  
Additional disclaimer: The song lyrics at the beginning are from Art Garfunkle's "Bright Eyes" and do NOT belong to me

-

-

-

_**Is it a kind of dream, floating out on the tide…  
Following the river of death downstream – oh is it a dream?  
There's a fog along the horizon, a strange glow in the sky.  
And nobody seems to know where you go, and what does it mean –  
Oh, is it a dream?  
Is it a kind of shadow, reaching into the night,  
Wandering over the hills unseen – or is it a dream?  
There's a high wind in the trees, a cold sound in the air.  
And nobody ever knows when you go, and where do you start?  
Oh, into the dark. **_

_"Seto?" It couldn't be – but… "Seto, is that you?"_

_The tall, lean brunet seemed to gain truer form as he merged with the light from the shadows, stepping out of his hiding spot._

_"Seto!" Mokuba threw himself at his brother, hugging him fiercely._

_The other dropped to his knees and hugged him back, tightly. "You shouldn't believe in me so easily – how can you be sure I am what I say?"_

_Mokuba's retort – that his brother hadn't _said_ anything – died on his lips. "Nii-sama, no one else would dare come to me as you." He buried his face in the other's coat, trying to claw his way closer._

_Seto held him, breathing softly in his hair. He took comfort in the easy ruffling of the warmth. "Who am I, Mokuba?_ Why_ am I?"_

_Maybe it wasn't a question for him. Maybe it was just hypothetical musings – his brother had a tendency to do that sometimes. But, Mokuba couldn't help but answer, his words firmly possessive. "You are my Nii-sama." He pulled back enough so he could look up into blue eyes. "You regret nothing."_

_Those eyes closed, shutting off the light from the sky. "Oh, but I do regret." Soft words – easy to say, but impossible to mean._

_"Nii-sama, you've never regretted anything."_

_A gentle hand under his chin tilted his face even further up. "No one can live a life without regrets."_

_"You don't regret!"_

_He hadn't meant to shout, but –_

_"Seto! Seto, come back!"_

_His brother's image was fading, taking itself away, and pooling into beads of mercury that ran and slid and skidded over the ground like little silver bugs. Even as he watched, the beads collected in a puddle, stretching and shaping itself over a wire frame. Building a person, building an impostor._

_"Seto! Where _are_ you?"_

_"Looking for someone, are we?" Mad laughter, choked out of the imposter's throat._

_"What do _you_ want?" Hadn't he been here before? Seen this? Done this?_

_"No need ter loose yer venom on _me_, young mistah."_

_Painfully familiar, but he couldn't place the words, the face that was mutating from his brother's perfect, trademark smirk into something fiercer and uglier._

_"What _are_ you?" he demanded._

_"So we __are_ lost, aren't we?" The changeling imposter drew nearer, stinking of rotting skin and charred bone.

_"Go away!"_

_"But we won't be lost fah long – "_

_He was rooted to the spot as skeletal hands reached out to touch him. Those were Seto's hands – slim and slender, but his brother's hands had never felt like _that_. Not like there was bone lurking just under the surface. Not like poison that could pervade his senses and distort reality._

_**"Mokuba."**_

_The hands melted away, just when he thought he couldn't stand them anymore. His brother's voice, dripping with nauseatingly sweet words encircled him, drowning him in tainted visions. As if breathing were an option anymore._

_"Seto!" he cried out, and his lungs flooded with blood and hate and pain and seawater._

"Get down, Mokuba!"_ A firm pair of hands shoved on his shoulders, dropping him to his knees, out of the mayhem drowning him._

_--------------------  
"S-seto?" He knew it wasn't, but still he had to ask. If he didn't ask the darkness and the wind if it was his brother, he'd be forever wondering._

_As if disappointed in him, the darkness shook its head, then mad laughter began to ooze out of it, curling around Mokuba._

_**"Such a pitiful thing, you are, aren't you? Looking for him – do you even know if he's still alive?"**_

_But that couldn't be! _I'd know if he wasn't alive,_ Mokuba thought frantically. The realization took hold and settled in, making him defiant. "Shut up! My Nii-sama isn't dead!"_

"Unless, of course, he is, and you don't know it."_ The gentle voice had the same quality as the other, uglier voice, but it was mellow in tone, and instead of viciously triumphant, sadder and softer._

_"I'd know!" Mokuba insisted._

_**"Leave him to his delusions,"** the dark voice said, sounding bored. Mokuba had a mental image of a young man speaking as he examined his fingernails. And…_

_"They're not delusions!"_

"Of course they are,"_ the weary voice answered. _"They all are. Nothing like sanity around here. But don't worry. Try the chocolate. It'll make you feel better. Always does, always does."

_A brown, shapeless blob floated in front of him. He shook his head. "I want my Nii-sama!"_

_**"Told you. You never bother to listen, though. Always, always, always. He wants his sanity. Why not give it back to him, along with the roadmap? Not like we have much use for it…neither of **_**us_ searching for someone who isn't there, after all._**_"_

_"He's there!" Mokuba insisted, although as time wore on, he wasn't even sure what he was insisting on anymore. There – there where? When?_

"It's only a dream of things that never were. Stop fighting. Let it take you. Let it bleed you dry. That's all…just let go. Let it all go. Let them take you." Did things even have to make sense here? I'm not dead, I'm not dead, I'm not. Seto can't be either. They don't know what they're saying. Only little - 

_**"Figments of your imagination? Oh, I wish so."**_

_"B-bakura? What are you doing here?"_

_**"Examining the scenery of course. The inside of your head is deadly dull. Nothing screaming or dying."** As he trailed off, the windows fluttered open._

_When had there been windows?_

_But that was beside the point. Shrieks drifted in._

"Can you close the window? They're shooting people down by the church again."

_"Ryou? What are _you_ doing here?" What were any of them doing here? He half expected to see Jou or Honda or Anzu come waltzing through. Expected, and feared, seeing Yuugi's stranger, the twisted corners of his mouth bringing an uneven smirk into the already too-tight corners of his mind._

"Whoever said dreams had to make sense? It probably will after you wake up."

_**"Until then, we're here to fuck up your mind."**_

_Dream-time made no sense. _


End file.
